


What Message?

by purestilinski



Category: Sex Education (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 02, let them be happy, they need each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22620826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purestilinski/pseuds/purestilinski
Summary: Unlucky. If there is one word that so perfectly and simply encapsulates the timing of his relationship with Maeve, that would be the word he would choose.Otis really hopes this time is different.Or: The days following season 2's finale.
Relationships: Otis Milburn/Maeve Wiley
Comments: 10
Kudos: 171





	What Message?

**Author's Note:**

> Maeve doesn't get rid of Otis's sweater in season one.

Otis wanted to go running to Maeve’s caravan the morning after his talk with Isaac. Maeve’s new friend had promised he would tell her that Otis had stopped by; that he had left her a voicemail. And even though Otis hardly knew the wheel-chair bound boy, Maeve trusted him, which meant Otis had no reason not to. So, he waited.

His pent-up energy made it impossible for him to sleep that night. He couldn’t close his eyes for more than a few minutes before they would shoot open and his body would fidget underneath the covers. After an hour of useless attempts, he finally gave up on getting a good night’s sleep and kicked off the covers. 

The first hour or so afterward, he played Super Mario Odyssey. He had already beaten it but, really, it was a masterpiece. And there were still more moons he had never gotten around to collecting, so he still had work to do. Then, he moved on to Super Smash Bros. Ultimate which, not to toot his own horn, was _his_ game. He spent most of the rest of the night climbing the GSP rankings with characters he didn’t normally play. Eric had always commented on how ridiculously talented he was at the game and honestly, if he could make a career out of it, he probably would. Unfortunately, that wasn’t very practical or realistic. He had far more experience in his mum’s field of work anyway. 

He couldn’t stop himself from checking his phone throughout the hours, hoping that he would have a new notification from Maeve. He wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted the message to say. _Hey dickhead, I love you too_. That would definitely cause him to burst into tears of joy. _I forgive you for everything_. He definitely _wanted_ that. But it wasn’t going to happen. At least not right away. And he didn’t deserve it anyway. He had to build towards her forgiveness. He just needed the chance to do so. 

When the screen began to grow blurry, he finally decided to call it and shut off the Nintendo Switch. He rubbed furiously at his eyes. Blinking did little to help him, as the light seemed to have ingrained itself behind his eyelids. How long had he been playing? He checked the digital clock on his bedside table, eyes widening when it read 6:27 a.m. With a sigh, he pulled on a white undershirt and a pair of gray sweatpants and stumbled out of his room. He made himself a coffee using their Keurig machine. Though he wasn’t really a coffee person, he figured his current situation warranted at least one cup. 

“You’re up early.”

Otis nearly dropped the cup of brown liquid as he jumped with a shout of surprise. “Mum! You scared me.” 

His mum maneuvered around him towards the refrigerator. “Sorry.” 

He watched with curiosity as she pulled out yogurt and berries and set them by the blender. 

“Are you making a smoothie?” 

She hummed her assent, taking the ingredients out before measuring them and placing them into the blender. 

“You don’t ever make smoothies.” 

“No, I suppose I don’t.” She commented, starting the device. The noise was ear-piercingly loud and reminiscent of Jakob’s time essentially living with them. Otis flinched momentarily but soon became accustomed to the sound. Otis’s mum raised her voice to be heard over the blender’s annoyance. “I miss Jakob,” she admitted. “So I thought I’d make a smoothie.” 

“Oh.” He wasn’t really sure what else to say. 

“Are you okay with that?” She eyed him inquisitively. 

He gave her a small but genuine smile. “With the smoothie? Or missing Jakob?” 

She rolled her eyes. “With me missing Jakob.” 

“I like Jakob.” 

It was true. Despite all of the evidence pointing toward the contrary, Otis had never disliked the Swedish handyman. He had always been his mum’s entire world. Not since his father had she ever been serious about another man. And he had grown used to that. He quite enjoyed the way things had worked. But it was obvious his mother no longer did. Now that he was no longer dating Ola, the situation was simplified and he would support whatever happened between his mum and Jakob. He had plenty of making up to do with the Nyman family anyway. 

“Hmm, I got the impression you didn’t,” she commented as she poured the now finished smoothie into a glass. 

He checked his phone before responding. No new message. “I’m sorry about that, mum. I was acting like a child.” 

“Yes, you were.” She took a sip of her drink, a sound of surprise leaving her. “This is quite good.” She moved past him to sit at the kitchen table. “I suppose I can’t entirely blame you though. The sudden change must have been hard for you. Jakob being your girlfriend’s father probably didn’t help much either.” 

“That doesn’t excuse my behavior,” insisted Otis. He didn’t deserve to be let off the hook for how poorly he had treated those closest to him. 

“I never said it did. I’m just saying I understand why you reacted the way you did.”

Otis took the first sip of his coffee and nearly spit it out the moment the semi-warm liquid touched his tongue. “Bloody hell this is disgusting!”

“Otis!” His mum raised a stern eyebrow, but the hint of a smile was visible on her face.

“Sorry, mum.” 

“Are you drinking it black?”

“Yes.”

“Try adding a few spoonfuls of creamer. We have some caramel in the fridge.” 

He opened the refrigerator, searching for a few moments before he found what his mum was talking about. He ignored the ‘few spoonfuls’ part though and poured a decent amount of caramel creamer into his cup before stirring it around. There was no way a few spoonfuls would be enough to mask that disgusting taste. When he took his next sip, he gave a nod of satisfaction. “That’s much better.” 

He checked his phone again. Nothing.

“You don’t ever make coffee,” she pointed out, bringing the smoothie to her lips. 

“I guess we’re both full of surprises.”

“Hmm. Any... _particular_ reason for your surprise?” 

_Maeve. Maeve likes coffee._ He tried to hide the quick reddening of his cheeks by looking away from his mum, but he was unsuccessful. “No. No reason.”

“Otis.” 

“Maeve,” he grumbled inaudibly under his breath. 

“Pardon?” 

He cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact with his mum. “Maeve likes coffee.” He tried to find something interesting to occupy his attention. There was nothing, so he found himself staring at the floor. “And I didn’t sleep last night,” he added as an afterthought. 

“Maeve?” She sat up straighter, gazing at her son with interest. “You haven’t told me about her. Is she your girlfriend?” 

“Mum!” he groaned. “No.” He sighed. “She’s not my girlfriend.” 

“But she’s the reason you didn’t sleep last night?” 

There was no point in lying to her. Especially after all of the issues his previous lies had caused. “Yes.” 

He tried to slyly check his phone. Still no message. Really, what did he expect? It wasn’t even eight in the morning yet. 

“Is she also the reason you keep checking your phone?” 

“Yes.” 

“May I ask why?” 

“I made mistakes and I’m trying to rectify them.” 

“Because you like her?” she asked with a gentle look in her eyes and the raise of her eyebrows. 

“Because I love her.” After saying the words in his voicemail, they were no longer as hard to admit out loud. He was completely and totally head-over-heels in love with Maeve. No more ifs. No more maybes. 

His mum leaned backward, a look of surprise taking over her features as she worked hard to properly swallow the sip of smoothie she had taken. “Well...I’ve obviously been out of the loop.” 

Though her words held no blame, he still winced at them. There was so much of his life that he had been keeping hidden from his mother when he should have been sharing it with her. Maybe she would have been able to help him if he had just confided in her. But he was a teenager, which meant the logical course of action had flown right over his head. 

It was time he told her all about his relationship with Maeve.

* * *

“Oatcake, you’ve got to calm down man.” Eric placed what was probably supposed to be a calming hand on his shoulder but Otis ended up recoiling away.

He tried to apologize. “Sorry, sorry. I think I’m panicking. I’m panicking.” 

It was Sunday night. They would have school in the morning; the first school day since Otis had sent the voicemail. And there was still no word from Maeve. No text. No call. No nothing. 

But that was fine, _right_? Isaac had told Maeve about the message, just like Otis had asked the kind boy. Maeve was simply busy with her complicated home life. She had to look after Elsie on top of everything else already on her full plate. She would get back to him later in the night. Or they would talk about it in the morning. There was no need to worry. 

“Drink your Cola and chill, new kid.” Adam stood in front of a beat-down and abandoned Honda Civic, his feet a little wider than shoulder-length apart. He was bent at the knees and at the waist, a baseball bat in hand as he practiced his swing. 

“How is one supposed to ‘chill’, oh wise one?” asked Otis sarcastically. 

Adam sighed, lowering the bat and exiting his batting stance before turning to face the two boys seated in baby blue lawn chairs. “You could start by not hyperventilating. Might help a wee bit.” 

Otis tried to focus his breathing, realizing Adam was right. After several unsuccessful attempts, he managed to steady it well enough before taking a small sip of his Cola. He let out a relieved but still slightly shaky breath. 

Eric was watching him with open concern. His cheese-covered hand held out a half-empty bag of Wotsits. “Wotsit?”

Otis took one and shoved it into his mouth, barely remembering to chew it thoroughly before he swallowed. 

“So, what’d the sexy witch say next?” asked Adam, trying to get their conversation back on track once Otis looked like he wasn’t about to explode from anxiety. 

“What sexy witch?”

“It’s what he calls my mum,” grumbled Otis.

“Adam!” gasped Eric, scandalized. 

The tall and skinny boy shrugged his shoulders unapologetically. “What? It’s an accurate description, I’d say.” 

Otis ignored him, choosing instead to answer the original question. “She asked me if the reason I started the sex clinic was for the money or if it was because I wanted the chance to spend more time with Maeve.” 

“And?” asked Adam, dragging the baseball bat with him as he finally sat down in the previously unoccupied third lawn chair. 

“Because I wanted to spend more time with Maeve, obviously.” 

“You guys will work it out. You’re like...fated to be together,” reassured Adam. 

“You believe in fate?”

With a shrug, Adam said, “Eric believes in fate.” 

Eric hummed, observing his best friend and boyfriend with a soft smile on his face. 

“What do you believe?” asked Otis curiously. 

Scratching at his chin, Adam appeared lost in thought as he tried to figure out how to answer Otis’s question. “I believe...I believe that you’re a good person, new kid. And I believe that Maeve is a good person too. I think you two would be good for each other.” 

“I…” Otis was speechless for a moment as he digested Adam’s words. “Wow. Thank you, Adam.” 

The resulting smile disappeared from Adam’s face just as quickly as it appeared, but Otis still caught it. The lanky boy offered Otis the handle of the baseball bat. “Wanna smash some shit?” 

Otis looked to Eric, who nodded in encouragement, before gripping the bat. “Sure. Let’s smash some shit.”

* * *

He couldn’t find Maeve anywhere on Monday. 

At first, he thought maybe she was just going to be late. 

He had gotten to school earlier than he normally would. Which, for the boy who believed that on time was late, was saying something. In fact, he had been up so early that he had ridden his bicycle to school without Eric for the first time in a long time. 

But, as he watched the clock on the classroom wall tick closer to the start of the school day, students slowly trickling in, he felt the room around him heat up. He fidgeted with his long-sleeves, pushing them farther up his arms. But that wasn’t enough to cool him off. He pulled up the legs of his pants to a little below his knees, trying to allow for more air to reach him. He wiped furiously at his dampening hair, annoyance mixing with his growing anxiousness. _Jesus_. Why was it so hot? He checked the classroom’s thermostat, his eyebrows skyrocketing into his hairline when he saw that the temperature was only seventy-one degrees. 

The bell rang as the teacher herded the rest of the students in. 

No Maeve. 

During lunch, he checked her usual hiding spots. 

The first place he went to was the rundown bathroom that had served as one of the primary bases for their sex clinic. When he reached the grassy area in front of the school’s main building, he jumped over the prone forms of Jackson and Vivienne, the latter whom he recognized from Maeve’s Quizheads team. He turned around in surprise, nearly tripping over himself, to find Jackson staring at him with an amused expression. Otis gave an embarrassed wave before resuming his sprint. 

The bathroom was empty. 

_Where next? The library?_

He took off running in that direction, ignoring the gazes of his schoolmates. He took the steps multiple at a time and barely contorted his body to avoid slamming head-first into Ruby Matthews. 

“Watch where you’re going, Otis!” she exclaimed, jumping in surprise.

“Sorry!” he shouted at his new friend (were they friends now?). “My fault!” 

When he entered the library, he stumbled through the doors, his hands on his knees as he bent over and struggled for breath. Though he wasn’t out of shape, the duration of his sprint was definitely a physical effort that he was no longer accustomed to. 

“Well, you look absolutely exhausted,” came a perky voice from one of the tables closest to the door. 

He searched frantically for the sound of the recognizable voice before his eyes fell on Aimee, who was huddled close to the wall with a book in her hands. 

“Oh, Aimee! Thank goodness! How are you?” he rushed out with a deep breath. 

“I’m quite peppy today!” she said with a shining smile. “Though you seem a bit worse for wear.” 

He jerked his thumb at the sliding doors behind him, finally able to stand straight up without feeling like he was going to fall over. “I ran…” One more shaky breath. “I ran all around campus. Very fast.” 

“What for?” the blonde asked, sticking a bookmark in her novel and shutting it. 

“I’m looking for Maeve. Have you seen her?” 

If anyone knew where Maeve was, it would surely be Aimee.

Aimee shook her head. “I haven’t seen her. But we texted a bit last night. She’s not here today.” 

The disappointed look on his face was impossible to hide. “Oh.” 

“Everything alright?” 

“No. Uh, I mean...yeah. Did she say when she was going to be back?” 

“Tomorrow I think.” 

“Thank you, Aimee.”

* * *

“Fuck off, Milburn.” She brushed past him as she took the back exit out of the school building.

He was stunned by her harshness, though he couldn’t say it wasn’t deserved. He hadn’t been expecting forgiveness because he didn’t in any way, shape, or form _deserve_ forgiveness. But he was at least expecting...well, he supposed he didn’t really know what he was expecting. It was definitely not this reaction though. He had experienced being on the wrong side of Maeve before, but never to this degree. “W-What?” He stumbled over himself as he followed her outside. “What do you mean?” 

She rolled her eyes nastily. “What part of ‘fuck off’ do you need explained to you?” 

_Wow...okay_. He couldn’t verbally answer her. Hot tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Trying to ignore them, he took a ragged breath. He felt his chest constrict as he fell into step behind her. His ribs pressed against his chest so painfully that it felt like they were trying to break free from his skin. 

“I thought we could talk.” His attempt to keep his voice level was in vain as it wavered and tapered off at the end of his sentence.

“Talk about what? There’s nothing we need to discuss.” Her back remained towards him as she sped up, eyes locked firmly in front of her. 

The few students blocking Maeve’s path hastily moved out of the way. No one commented on how, if they hadn’t moved, she would have shoved past them in her beeline for the end of the school’s grounds. They passed the bicycle rack. Otis briefly glanced at his bike, wondering if he should unlock it from the post and take it with him. He decided against it. The minute or so that it would take for him to do so was not worth it at the present time.

Maeve needed to be his only focus.

“Nothing?” he echoed weakly. 

“We’re not friends anymore, Milburn.” 

They were off-campus now, entering into the tranquil woods that surrounded the school. Under different circumstances, Otis was sure he would enjoy this walk home with Maeve. But, at the current moment, his heart was thumping erratically. Despite the fact that Maeve still wasn’t looking at him, he could tell that she was very aware of his presence based on the tenseness of her shoulders. 

“Oh.” 

“Oh?” she mimicked, mocking him. “Oh? That’s all you have to say?” 

He couldn’t stop the tears from falling. They left his eyes in a steady trickle and dampened his cheeks. He flushed red with embarrassment at his lack of self-control. _Stop fucking crying_ , he told himself. _Be a man_. Using his long-sleeves he swiped wildly at his eyes to get rid of the evidence.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to stop the single sob that racked his whole body, causing him to shudder. The feeling of crying from heartbreak was rather unpleasant and not something he had experienced in a very long time. Maybe not since his father had left him. A noise that resembled a hiccup left his throat unbidden. 

In response to the sound, Maeve tilted her head to spare him a look over her shoulder. “Are you bloody crying?” 

He almost said ‘no’; he wanted to say no. But he couldn’t. Because that would be lying. And lying hadn’t gotten him, well, anything. It was the wrong thing to do. He had known it since he was a child; since his father had lied to his mother about his affairs; since the two of them had lied to themselves about their failing marriage; since he had told himself that he was _fine_ and _okay_ with being abandoned. 

But he had forgotten himself, becoming more and more like his father until he had gotten his truths and his lies mixed up in his head. Namely, one specific truth and one specific lie. 

The lie: _“I made myself get over you, Maeve, and now everything’s fine, everything’s normal, everything’s great.”_

The truth: He was very much _not_ over her. Everything was certainly not fine, not normal, not great. He had never truly been over her. Not even when he had first gotten together with Ola. And while he did like Ola, she was right when she said they were not meant to be friends. The attraction, natural connection, and _love_ just weren’t there. 

“Yes,” he finally said. 

She hesitated, biting at her lip, trying to stop herself from giving in to a swell of compassion. She heaved a sigh. “Why?”

They were at the bridge now, Otis vaguely noted through his hazy vision. A rush of nostalgia crashed through him as he stared at the exact spot where they had almost kissed last term. He could picture them there if he concentrated hard enough. Maeve, with her blonde hair and pink highlights in a ponytail, staring up at him in his sweater. He, with his dark blue denim jacket and ridiculous amounts of eyeshadow, gazing down at her lips. They had been so close, their faces inches apart. It would have been so simple, so easy to close the distance and capture her lips with his. 

Instead, he had messed it up. And regretted it every day since then. 

“Because…” He struggled to find the right words to express how he was feeling. “Because you’re an _amazing_ person, Maeve.” At last, after so many failed attempts, Maeve came to a complete stop and turned around to face him. He paused where he stood, his hands searching for his pockets before he continued. “You make me happy. I...I can’t explain it. Your presence just calms me, Maeve. It’s like...when you’re around, everything is _fine_ even when it’s not because I know you’ll be there. You make me smile. You make me feel at peace.” 

Maeve’s expression softened at his tearful and flustered admission. Biting her lower lip, she rolled her jaw around as she watched him with fascinated eyes. Unconsciously, she stepped forward, gently grabbing the outside of Otis’s arm with her outstretched hand. Otis spotted a lone tear trickle down her cheeks, which he wiped away with his thumb. She let out a short giggle. 

“And...I thought...after the message…” 

Her face scrunched into a confused frown. “What message?”

Surprise washed over him. “What do you mean?”

She separated from him, stepping back. “What do you mean what do I mean? What bloody message?” 

He frowned, tilting his head to the side in puzzlement. What? Surely she knew what he was talking about. She _had_ to know what he was talking about, right? Had she never listened to it? He hesitated, opening his mouth and closing it a few times as he contemplated the situation. That voicemail had been his confession - his admission of love to Maeve and the first step in making their relationship right. It was important to him. Sacred, really. And he had entrusted Isaac with telling Maeve about it. 

Finally, when Maeve’s expression began to grow impatient, he answered. “The voicemail I told Isaac to tell you about.” 

Now, she looked thoroughly lost, rubbing a hand over her neck. “Isaac didn’t tell me about a voicemail.” 

What? “He didn’t?” 

“No.” Her eyebrows creased together. “When did you send it?”

“Um...I called you during the quiz championships. But…” He flushed red with embarrassment. “...I...I...well, you know me. I went to your place that night to see if I could catch you in person. Isaac told me you weren’t there and he didn’t know when you’d be back. So I asked him to let you know about the message.” 

Suddenly, her whole demeanor changed. Her shoulders tensed as her eyes widened in apparent realization, utter annoyance splaying across her face. “That bloody…” She sighed in agitation. “I left my phone in his caravan when I went to the store. I didn’t think anything about it because I trusted him. The prick must have deleted it.” 

_Oh_. Something akin to betrayal squirmed inside his chest. Isaac wasn’t his friend. They hardly knew each other. And yet, Otis had decided to trust him with something of extreme importance. That had been _so, so stupid_. Not only had the boy betrayed Otis’s trust, but he had also completely overstepped his bounds with Maeve. Her phone was her privacy. She had believed him to be harmless so, naturally, she hadn’t worried when she left it in his home. What a dickhead. 

Maeve paused, swaying back and forth on her feet. “Do you...Do you…” She stuttered, trying to get words out in a sudden bout of nervousness. “Do you want to come over? I’ll make us some coffee and you can tell me what you said on your message?” 

“Yeah!” His brain wasn’t even done processing her words before his answer left his mouth.

Her smile was blinding. “Yeah?”

She reached for his hand, slotting her fingers in between his.

Their hands remained intertwined for the rest of their walk.

* * *

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you, dickhead.” The soft smile on her face and her teasing tone said otherwise. 

“I don’t want it to. I just want the chance to make things okay between us again.” 

Maeve, with her hair in a ponytail and wearing a sweatshirt that Otis identified as the one he had given her that night on the bridge, took a sip of her coffee before setting the mug down. “Can I kiss you?” 

His cheeks turned crimson. “Y...yes.” 

Inching forward on the couch, she leaned closer. The warmth of her breath brushed across his skin and he couldn’t help but let out an involuntary gasp. Her smile widened as the tips of her hair tickled him. His eyes dropped from the chocolate of her eyes to pink lips. Her hand carefully cupped the back of his neck as she finally closed the remaining distance between them, connecting their lips in the best kiss that Otis ever experienced. 

She was soft at first, unsure how he was going to react even with plenty of warning. But then, as he grew less rigid and put more of himself into the kiss, she put more power into it. He made a noise of surprise but allowed her to dominate the lock of their lips. The hand that had been holding the back of his neck slid upwards. Her nails scratched lightly at the roots of his hair, causing him to whimper in pleasure. 

When breathing became a necessity for both of them, Maeve was the first to reluctantly pull away. Otis’s lips instinctively chased her warmth and his head inched closer before he caught himself, leaning backward and taking a breath. For a few moments, neither of them could do anything except watch the other serenely. 

“I see you kept my sweater.” Otis’s loving grin caused Maeve’s cheeks to redden and butterflies to flap in her stomach. 

“It’s _my_ sweater now.”

**Author's Note:**

> These two have one of my favorite TV relationships. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
